


all the way up (never bring me down)

by stonesnuggler



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: (if you squint), (only in the way alex is kind of in charge), Anal Fingering, Gangbang, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Riding, Rimming, Shower Sex, dylan scored a wicked wrister against edmonton so shout out to his ex amirite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 05:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17892446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonesnuggler/pseuds/stonesnuggler
Summary: “Remember when you told me to enjoy myself after my first hatty?” Alex says, a bit of a flush rising to his cheeks.Dylan quirks an eyebrow, runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah?”“Yeah,” Alex says, scratching at the back of his neck. “You’re in for a treat, Stromer.”





	all the way up (never bring me down)

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this after dylan scored a goal against edmonton while connor was on the ice and it took almost an entire month but HERE IT IS. it's just porn and i would say i'm sorry but i wouldn't mean it. 
> 
> thank you to g and l for the constant cheerleading of this and also j for instigating it's creation. i love you all dearly. 
> 
> title from shout out to my ex by little mix because of course it is.

Logically, Dylan had some semblance of an idea what was coming to him when Jonny approached him after the game, shirt still in the process of being buttoned, room key in hand. But that doesn’t mean he was prepared for it. 

“Room 360,” Jonny says, slipping the key right behind his pocket square. “If you’re up for celebrating.”

There’s a look in his eyes that makes him shiver, the same look that Dylan saw in his eyes when the draft tour took them to the Cup Playoffs, shaking Jonny’s hand in the underbelly of the United Center.

Hungry, determined, like he’s challenging you. 

Dylan lets the shiver roll down his spine, subtly, not jarring enough that Jonny can see before he nods once, then twice. 

“Definitely,” he manages, patting the room key where it’s cold and hard right over his heart. He can’t help but smile at the flash of Jonny’s teeth, almost like a promise. 

__

He stops by his and Alex’s room beforehand, stripping out of his suit methodically, hanging each piece and taking care to right them inside the garment bag before pulling on something more comfortable. He goes for sweatpants, no boxers, and his favorite, nearly threadbare Erie t-shirt that of course was going to make the trip to Edmonton. 

“Remember when you told me to enjoy myself after my first hatty?” Alex says, a bit of a flush rising to his cheeks. 

Dylan quirks an eyebrow, runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, scratching at the back of his neck. “You’re in for a treat, Stromer.”

Dylan’s stomach swoops at that, remembering talking to Alex after he got home from celebrating, how his voice sounded loose and lazy and –

“ _ Oh _ ,” Dylan says, not really able to say much else with his mind running a mile a minute, his blood running hot. 

“Go talk to Jonny,” Alex says, coming over to Dylan and letting his hands settle at Dylan’s hips. He tips his head up in search of a kiss that Dylan will obviously give him, soft and sweet, but Alex is pushing his hips away and toward the door soon after. “Go. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Love you,” Dylan says, heading toward the door, taking one more look at Alex as he changes into sweats.

“Love you back,” he hears as the door swings shut. 

The walk to Jonny’s room isn’t far, just down the hall a bit, but every step makes the anticipation buzz under his skin just a little more.

He doesn’t even fumble with the room key when he pulls it from his pocket and slides it through the reader. It opens easily, the swish of the door brushing against the carpet as it opens to reveal Jonny laying on the bed in the center of the room, book open in his lap. He looks comfortable, wearing a white t-shirt and sweatpants that look soft to the touch.

He smiles once he sees Dylan, sitting up and tucking his foot under his leg. 

“Hey, Dyls,” Jonny says, relaxed in a way that Dylan’s only seen him once before. 

Dylan doesn’t wait for Jonny to tell him to sit, just crosses a leg under the other as he sits on the corner of Jonny’s bed. 

“I’m assuming Alex briefed you a little,” Jonny says, dog-earing the page he was reading and shutting his book, setting it aside. “but I still want to talk things through before anything happens.”

Dylan nods, then clears his throat. “Yeah, for sure.” 

“I want you to be comfortable during this, because it’s your night,” Jonny says, “so if anything happens that you don’t like, we can stop right away.”

Again, Dylan nods. “Who, uh— Alex said he was gonna be here, but who else?”

Jonny hums, the smile on his face soft and comforting. 

“That’s actually up to you,” Jonny says, one corner of his mouth upturned in a smirk. “That’s always how we always do this.”

Dylan’s mouth goes a little dry at that, and he knows his eyes are wide, heat rising to his cheeks. 

“Alex will be here soon if you want to think about it a little,” Jonny says, nudging Dylan’s thigh with his foot. “But there’s got to be at least one other someone judging by that look.”

Dylan laughs a little at that, because of course there is, and he’s sitting right here in front of him. He’s looking all relaxed and stupid hot in sweats and a t-shirt, laying out the terms for a fucking orgy, because what the fuck is his life, right?

“Well, you, for starters,” he manages, scratching at the back of his neck, and once he starts talking he really wishes he could stop. “Like, even if you weren’t doing this whole—“ he waves his hand, a little absently “— _ thing _ , you’d still be, uh, on the list.”

Jonny laughs, then, and Dylan wishes he could hear that sound all the time, but it’s interrupted by a knock on the door that makes Dylan’s heart race. He knows it’s just Alex, but this whole moment is a lot for him personally. 

He watches as Jonny gets up to answer the door, listens as Alex says, “What’d I miss?”

He turns in time to see Jonny throw an arm around Alex’s shoulder and kiss the top of his head. 

“Just Stromer confessing his crush on me,” Jonny jokes, leaning against the wall as Alex nestles into Dylan’s side where he’s sitting on the bed. 

Alex laughs. “Old news.”

“Fuck off,” Dylan says, cheeks heating as he lightly shoves at Alex’s shoulder. 

“Anyway,” Jonny says, arms crossing across his chest, gently bringing the conversation back to what had been interrupted. “Any other thoughts? We can make adjustments as we go, too.” 

Dylan swallows, chews at the inside of his cheek a little before clearing his throat. “Seabs,” he says finally, then a little quicker, “and Saader.” 

Jonny hums, nodding a little as a smile stretches across his lips. “Good choices.” 

Dylan flushes, ducking his head a little and Alex presses a kiss to his shoulder. 

“I can go get them,” Alex offers. “I think they were hanging with Duncs anyway.” 

“That okay with you, Dyl?” Jonny asks, and Dylan nods, tipping his face toward Alex’s for a kiss that he’s instantly met with. 

“I’ll be back,” Alex says, stealing one more kiss. “Don’t wait for me, okay?” 

Dylan’s eyes widen a little, and Alex quirks an eyebrow at him, looking at Jonny.

It’s an unspoken hint to that one time they  may or may not have talked about their mutual admiration for their captain, and Dylan can see Jonny’s head tilt a litte, face inquisitive. 

“You’ll see,” Alex says, ducking out of the way of Jonny attempting to ruffle his hair again as he makes his way out of the room. 

The door snicks shut behind him, and then Jonny’s holding a hand out to Dylan where he’s still seated on the bed. Dylan gets up, moving on autopilot to stand in front of Jonny, only the slightest bit taller than him when they’re toe to toe. 

“You still okay?” Jonny asks, hand still holding onto Dylan’s. 

Dylan squeezes it, sets his forehead against Jonny’s. “Mhmm.” 

“Good,” he says, bringing his free hand up to cup Dylan’s cheek, swiping his thumb over his cheek bone and Dylan barely has the wherewithal to breathe before leaning forward and finally getting his lips on Jonny’s. 

Jonny reads the play expertly, hand shifting so it’s resting at the nape of Dylan’s neck as Dylan reaches his hand to rest it along Jonny’s jaw. His lips are sure and firm against Dylan’s, slow and languid until Dylan hums, pulls back to breathe for just a second before diving back in, harder and more intense than before.

Jonny’s teeth catch against Dylan’s lower lip, tugging just a little, and Dylan can’t help but gasp at the sting as it sends a zip down his spine. 

He doesn’t even process that they’re moving away from the wall until the backs of his knees hit the edge of Jonny’s bed. One second he’s sitting up, Jonny half in his lap, and the next he’s laying back, head against Jonny’s pillows and Jonny above him, solid and grounding. 

He’s hyper aware of all of the places Jonny is pressed against him; where his leg slots between Dylan’s, how his lips trail to his jaw, his hand heavy on Dylan’s hip where they’re trying to push up against Jonny’s.

Dylan can feel his blood rushing with the intensity of it all, pulse whooshing in his ears as Jonny worries a mark where his neck and shoulder meet. It’s all he can find the strength to do, reaching up and scratching through the short hairs at the nape of Jonny’s neck, encouraging. 

“I like that you’re not afraid to touch,” Jonny hums against Dylan’s skin. 

Dylan huffs a laugh. “I get an opportunity I’ve wanted for weeks and you think I’m gonna be shy?” 

Jonny laughs, just a little, pressing a soft kiss to the mark he was making before making his way back up to Dylan’s lips just as the door opens. Dylan can just barely hear Alex, Brent and Brandon talking, just easy conversation as the door closes behind them.

Jonny pulls back, and Dylan’s glad for the chance to catch his breath as the three of them walk further into the room. 

Brent didn’t even bother with a shirt, just low slung sweats that show the cut of his hips, making Dylan’s mouth run dry. Brandon, on the other hand, opted for a shirt that’s maybe half a size too small, judging by the way his arms look like they’re threatening to escape from it. They’re holding hands, the two of them, and Dylan would bet that’s the reason for Jonny’s hum. 

Jonny shifts so that he’s almost entirely off Dylan, allowing Dylan to sit with his back to the headboard. Dylan’s only a little disappointed by the loss of contact, because it’s not long at all before Alex is next to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek as Brent and Brandon come and press a kiss to Dylan’s forehead before situating themselves on the bed with the rest of them.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Jonny says, and Dylan laughs a little.

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” he says, raising his eyebrows.

Jonny smiles as he rolls his eyes, swatting at Dylan’s thigh a little. “Shut it, you’ll like this idea.” 

Dylan holds his hands up in mock defense, before crossing them over his chest and saying, “If you’re sure.”

“Dylan, how would you feel about Alex taking the lead here?” Jonny asks, drawing a line around the Otters logo on Dylan’s sweatpants. 

Dylan swallows, looks at Jonny, then around the room at Brent, Brandon and then finally Alex next to him. He’s close enough that Dylan can see the faint freckles that are dusted across his nose, looking up at Dylan through his lashes and he has to admire the beauty of it all before finally deciding –

“Yeah,” he says, finally shaking himself out of it. “That would be– yeah.” 

“Looks like that’s not much of a change from the usual for you, eh Dyls?” Brent says, and Dylan can feel the blush rising to his cheeks. “We all know what kitty can do.” 

Dylan shrugs, because he’s right. Alex has always been a little more in charge, and that’s how he likes it. 

“Jesus,” Alex says, smiling as he shakes his head. “It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you guys.”

Brandon shrugs. “I’m good with it.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’m bossed around by someone younger than me,” Brent says, pointedly looking at Jonny, which gets Dylan to actually laugh.

From there, it’s easy to go over general things – no hockey nicknames, colors system for safewords, communication is key. By the time everything is talked out, Dylan is antsy, craving to have his lips on someone. 

“Who first, Dyl?” Alex asks, bringing Dylan back to earth. 

“Brent,” he says, quickly, then thinks about it a little. “And Jonny?” 

Brandon doesn’t look too disappointed from where his head is resting against Jonny’s thigh, but Dylan takes one of his hands anyway, just for something to do. Brandon brings Dylan’s hand to his lips, presses a kiss to it, a silent ‘I understand’.

“Are we thinking the same thing?” Alex says, and Dylan doesn’t even know why he asked, because of course they’re thinking the same thing. They’re always on the same page. 

“I sure hope so,” Dylan says, a little dizzy with the idea of it. 

“Brent and Dyls, switch spots,” Alex says, cool and a bit commanding, and Dylan shivers as he shifts, making way for Brent to lay in the spot he vacated. “And lose the sweats, both of you.” 

“Too soon to start calling him cap?” Brent says as he tips his hips up, shoving his sweats down and kicking them off. 

Dylan laughs as he tugs his shirt over his head, then pushes his sweats off, letting Jonny and Brandon untangle them from his ankles before he situates himself in Brent’s lap. 

“Maybe for his ego,” Dylan manages, overwhelmed with the warmth of Brent’s skin against his own. He only hesitates for a split second before leaning down and slotting their lips together, loving the feeling of Brent’s beard scraping against his skin, already craving the burn it’ll leave long after. 

Brent kisses a lot like Jonny, but also different in his own way. He’s a little more intense right out of the gate, catching Dylan’s lip with his teeth, setting his nails into Dylan’s lower back. It makes Dylan’s head spin, and he can’t help but push his hips forward where he’s already half hard and Brent is getting there.

Alex clears his throat, just softly, before saying, “Hold him open. Make room for Jonny.” 

Dylan feels like the air has been punched out of his lungs, and he has to pull back from the press of Brent’s lips to gasp as Brent’s hands trail down his back to his ass, spreading him open. 

“Alex,” Dylan breathes, mind going a mile a minute. He didn’t know Alex would remember Dylan mentioning this one day, heat of the moment in the one time they allowed themselves to talk about Jonny in bed – how he wanted to loosen up under Jonny’s tongue, come apart feeling his stubble burn the insides of his thighs. 

“We on the same page, Dyl?” Alex checks in, putting a hand on his face and tipping his chin up until their eyes meet. He can only imagine what he looks like in Alex’s eyes. 

He nods, lower lip tucked between his teeth. “Always.” 

“Good,” Alex says, kissing Dylan once, then twice before letting him turn back to Brent. “B, you can come over by me.” 

“Typical Americans,” Brent mutters into Dylan’s skin, and Dylan laughs against Brent’s lips. Behind him, he can feel Jonny’s weight shifting the bed as he settles between Brent’s legs. Next to him, the shuffling of Alex and Brandon getting settled, the hush whispers of plans being made. Everything is amplified, senses heightened, and Dylan is overwhelmed in the best way possible.

The feeling of Jonny’s hands on his skin isn’t startling, but rather calming. He’s teasing with his fingertips, running them down Dylan’s spine, over Brent’s hands where they’re holding him open, on display, all for Jonny.

“Jonny,” Dylan gasps, when Jonny just barely ghosts his fingertip over his hole. “Please.”

“I’ve got you,” Jonny says, the ghost of his breath just over Dylan’s ass, pressing a kiss to each cheek before bracing his hands on Dylan’s thighs and licking a stripe over him. 

Dylan can’t help the noise that gets caught in the back of his throat, or the way his hips push back searching for more. The movement does earn a hum from Brent, well on his way to fully hard, grazing against Dylan’s dick as he shifts, and it’s not exactly a hardship to get a hand on him, to start stroking him easily.

He’s always been pretty good at multitasking.

“You’re doing so good, Dyl,” Dylan hears, accompanied by a hand on his face, and when he pulls away from Brent, it’s Brandon tugging him into a kiss, soft and sure and the opposite of Brent and Jonny.

More like Alex. More like home. 

He’s brought back to Earth by Jonny blowing softly over his hole before tracing teasing circles with the tip of his tongue, and Brandon swallows his moans with the sweep of his tongue. He’s still stroking steadily at Brent where he’s warm and heavy in the palm of his hand, twisting slightly at the tip, pressing his thumb against the slit. His mouth waters at the feel of the precome gathering, and he hopes that Alex is plotting for him to get his mouth on at least someone’s dick tonight. 

“God, Dylan,” Alex hums, sounding far away even though Dylan knows he’s within arms reach. “You’re incredible.” 

HIs cheeks heat at the praise, at the press of Jonny’s tongue against him, the tip of it pushing the slightest bit  _ in. _ He has to pull back from Brandon, then, shaking as he rests his head on Brandon’s shoulder, mouthing at his collarbone. 

“You’re doing great,” Brandon says, soft and calming, threading his fingers through Dylan’s hair and scratching at his scalp. 

“Little faster and a little tighter on Brent, babe,” Alex directs, and Dylan’s quick to comply, picking up the pace and feeling his stomach swoop at how Brent groans. “Make him feel as good as Jonny’s making you feel.” 

“You congratulate a kid on a hatty once and suddenly he knows all your weak spots,” Brent says, voice tight and a little breathless. Behind him, Jonny hums something of a laugh, and the vibrations of it shoot all the way up his spine, making his head spin.

“Fuck, Jonny,” Dylan gasps. “So good.” 

That gets Jonny to hum again, tongue dipping in just a bit further, and Dylan almost sees stars. 

“Do you wanna come now, or–” Alex starts, but Dylan’s already shaking his head before he can get the rest of the sentence out. 

“No,” he manages. “I wanna wait.” 

“Okay, baby,” Alex says, leaning over Brandon to press a kiss to the side of his head. “Get Brent off first, however you want.” 

“Can I–” Dylan starts, slowing his hand a little, bringing Brent’s attention back to him. “I wanna blow you.” 

“Fuck’s sake,” Brent breathes, and he’s already shifting up so his back is against the headboard. “Yeah, Dyls, do it.” 

Jonny rolls with it, holding Dylan open himself, still tortuously flicking his tongue against Dylan’s hole, sucking marks into the swell of his ass and thumbing over the pucker when he needs to take a breath. Dylan’s mouth is watering as he situates himself between Brent’s legs, getting a hand back on Brent’s dick where it’s flushed red, shiny with precome at the tip. He runs his thumb through it, licking it clean before finally taking Brent into his mouth, sucking gently. 

“That’s it,” Brent says, hand sweeping across Dylan’s shoulders. “So good for it, Dylan.”

“You can pull his hair,” Alex says, next to them. Dylan wishes he could see the flush on his cheeks. “He can take it.”

Dylan flushes and hums as best as he can, kind of sticking in his throat as he takes Brent a little deeper, slowly figuring out a rhythm, when it’s best to breathe, how to function with Brent’s hand in his hair like this, with Jonny still doing downright wicked things with his tongue. 

“S’that right, Dyl?” Brent says, and Dylan has to open his eyes, has to look up at Brent and–– God, this is so much. “You like it a little rough? Bet you let Alex have his way with you, huh?” 

“He’s a brat,” says Alex, and Dylan whines. He’s not sure if it’s what’s being said or the fact that Jonny has finally,  _ finally _ pushed the tip of his index finger inside of him, warm and pliant enough under his tongue to only be a bit of a stretch. 

“Too good, Dyl, I’m close,” Brent says, voice tight and breathy, and Dylan can feel him twitch against his tongue. “Gonna get me there, babe? You know you’re good at this, that perfect little mouth of yours.” 

Dylan hums again, wraps a hand around Brent and fucking goes for it, jacking what he can’t fit into his mouth, circling his tongue around the head, relishing in the way Brent gasps, hips shifting up into the heat of Dylan’s mouth, taking what he wants. He tugs a bit at Dylan’s hair, sharper, more sudden than the steady pressure of how it was fisted before, and Dylan takes that as the warning he assumes that it is, then promptly ignores it. 

Alex must see this, because Dylan hears the little huffy laugh that usually comes from him in these situations.

“He’s good for it,” Alex says, low and a little rasped. “He’ll swallow.” 

That’s all it takes before Brent swears under his breath, hand tightening in Dylan’s hair one more time before he spills into Dylan’s mouth with a groan. Dylan, true to Alex’s word, swallows what he can, pulling off to breathe in time to catch the last bits of come on his lower lip, licking that away as well. 

He didn’t even realize that Jonny had stopped, too caught up in the feeling of Brent hot on his tongue, and now in the easy way that Brent is pushing his hair back as he comes down. He’s not sure he cares all that much, mostly because it gives him a second to look at Brent, pliant and vulnerable, cheeks flushed red and soft smile on his lips.

“Christ, Dylan,” Brent says. “You’re even more like Jonny than they say you are.” 

Dylan doesn’t mean to whine, but he does, and that’s when Jonny decides to get his hands back on Dylan, running a finger between his cheeks, brushing over his hole, slick with spit and just loose enough where Jonny can dip the tip of his finger inside. 

“Later,” Dylan says, and Jonny stops, slowly running his hands back up Dylan’s back before Dylan shifts to be on his side next to Brent. “I wanna see Alex and Brandon.” 

And, like, he already does see them from where he’s laying, curled into each other as they so very obviously just watched the show Dylan was putting on. They’ve both gotten rid of their shirts, Brandon down to his boxer briefs and Alex still in his sweats, both noticeably hard beneath the fabric. It makes Dylan’s stomach swoop, makes him aware of his own growing need to come as he palms himself to take off the edge.  

“What do you wanna see, baby?” Alex asks as Dylan watches Brandon run teasing fingertips over his stomach, through the ridges of his abs. He’s not quite close enough to see the goosebumps rise, but he knows they’re there. “Want me to open him up for you?”

The thing is, Dylan didn’t exactly know what he wanted to see, but now that Alex mentions it–

“Is that okay, B?” Dylan asks.

Brandon just smiles, shrugs his shoulders a bit. “Been a while, but I’m down for it.” 

Dylan smiles, runs a hand over Brent’s stomach, almost a second thought as he watches Alex gets up to grab lube and a few condoms. Brent hums at the feeling, sounding half asleep and Dylan would honestly bet that he is. 

“Pretty sight, those two,” Brent says, and Dylan can feel it more than he hears it. “Jonny’s boys, always so pretty.” 

Behind Dylan, Jonny huffs a laugh. “I might have a type.” 

He’s brought back to the scene in front of him by the snick of a cap, and when he looks over, Brandon is naked, holding one leg back to allow Alex between his legs. 

“Fuck,” Dylan breathes, overwhelmed at the sight and the heat of Jonny pressed along his back. 

Brandon is nothing to scoff at -- toned and broad, and the way he’s looking at Dylan is making his stomach swoop. 

“Come over here,” Brandon says. “Brent’ll fall asleep any second.” 

“Fuck you, no I won’t,” Brent says, but he helps manoeuver Dylan up and over him so Dylan’s in the space between Brent and Brandon. 

He’s barely settled before Brandon’s pulling him into a kiss, warm and sweet. He moves to deepen it, to get a little closer when Brandon tenses for just a second before humming a moan against Dylan’s lips. 

Dylan can almost feel what Alex is doing to Brandon, the first finger sliding in easy, tugging a bit at the rim on his way out. He can feel it in every hitching breath from Brandon, how he’s just barely shifting his hips, trying to move back into Alex’s finger. 

Behind him, there’s soft conversation, then the obvious sounds of kissing and –– Yeah, that’s something Dylan’s absolutely on board with. 

He pulls back from Brandon for just a second, looks over at Brent and Jonny and can’t help but smile at how comfortable, how familiar they seem to be. Brent’s draped on top of Jonny, almost smiling into the kisses, and it’s maybe giving Dylan a few ideas. 

Well, it was, until Alex gets a lube slick hand on his dick, pulling Dylan’s attention back to where Alex is stretching Brandon open, two fingers moving in and out easily. Then Dylan’s mind is blank, filled with  _ Alex Alex Alex. _

This is a pretty common occurrence.

“Jesus, Al,” Dylan says, letting his cheek rest on Brandon’s head while Brandon kisses as his neck. “This is–– Holy shit.” 

“You okay?” Alex says, just barely slowing his hand. Dylan only notices because he  _ knows _ him. 

Still, he nods, pushes his hips into Alex’s hand a little. “‘S a lot,” he says, running his hands through Brandon’s hair. “I’m okay.”

“What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours, huh?” Alex asks, swiping his thumb over the head of Dylan’s dick in easy circles, flushed smile on his face and, god, Dylan loves him.

“You and Jonny,” Dylan says, before he can even get more words gathered on the thought. “I wanna see him with you.” 

Alex smiles, and Dylan watches as he pulls his fingers from Brandon just enough to press at his rim with three, slowly easing them in as Brandon groans at the stretch. “I think we can make that happen, right, Jonny?”

Behind Dylan, Jonny laughs, a little breathy. “Twist my arm,” he says, low and muffled by where Brent is still working kisses along his jaw. 

“After Brandon,” Dylan says, turning his attention back to him and Alex, and Brandon brings his head up from it’s spot in Dylan’s neck to fit their lips together. 

“B, you ready?” Alex asks, pressing a kiss to Brandon’s knee, and Brandon nods. 

“Good with me being on top?” Brandon asks, and Dylan has to take a deep breath, because the thought of that plus the steady rhythm of Alex’s hand is a perfect recipe for this being over far sooner than he’s hoping.

Still, he nods, pulling Brandon in for a kiss. Caught up in the press of his lips, Dylan barely registers the tear of a foil packet, then the feeling of Alex rolling the condom over him. Brandon doesn’t break the kiss as he gets into Dylan’s lap. 

Bracing himself with one hand on Dylan’s chest, Brandon reaches back and takes Dylan in hand, lining him up with his hole before slowly, slowly sinking down. 

“Fuck,” Dylan hears, and he’s honestly not sure if it was him or someone else, but either way, he wholeheartedly agrees. 

“B, holy shit,” Dylan says, bringing his hands to settle on Brandon’s hips as Brandon slowly sinks down further, warm and wet and dizzying. Dylan’s sure Brandon can feel his heart hammering against where his hand is still braced on Dylan’s chest. 

“Breathing might help,” Brandon jokes, a little tight, a little breathy, but still with a smile on his face as he ducks down to kiss Dylan again lifting up just a little before pushing back down fast. 

Dylan groans, breaking the kiss for air. “Easier said than done,” he says, shifting his hips just enough to meet Brandon on the next downswing. He was about to laugh, Dylan could tell by the slight shake of his shoulders, but that’s quickly morphed into a moan, stuck in the back of his throat before Dylan kisses it free. 

It’s easy, from there, to establish a rhythm that has Dylan’s head spinning, has Brandon letting out these little noises that Dylan will probably hear in his dreams for the rest of his life. His blood is rushing in his veins, heart pounding and sweat beading at his temples. 

“So pretty,” Dylan hears Brent say, next to them, then feels a hand in his hair, pushing his sweat-damp curls from his forehead. “You’re so good, Dylan.” 

Dylan groans, breaking his kiss with Brandon again as his head falls back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut. Brandon’s still going, though, fucking himself on Dylan’s dick, taking what he wants. It’s perfect, overwhelming, incredible. 

It’s sudden, Brandon clenching around Dylan, and it takes him by surprise enough where his hips move at just the right angle that has Brandon moaning, the sting of his nails catching on Dylan’s chest just enough where he hisses, opening his eyes.

When he adjusts to the light, he’s met with Brandon and Jonny attached at the lips, Brent and Alex on either side of his hips, Brent’s face tucked into Alex’s neck, and both of them with a hand around Brandon’s dick where it’s flushed deep red at the tip. 

“Oh, fuck,” Dylan whines, hips stuttering. “Fuck, please, I’m––”

Alex hums, takes himself away from Brent and Brandon with only vague protests, and doesn’t hesitate for a second before kissing Dylan, deep and filthy. 

“Come on, baby,” Alex says, kissing his way to the hinge of Dylan’s jaw. “You’re doing so well, finish him off and then you can come. So good, waiting for everyone.” 

“ _ Alex _ ,” he whines, one hand snaking into Alex’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer. “I gotta––”

“Soon,” Alex says. “He’s so close. You can do it, Dyl.” 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Brandon gasps above them, face turned away from Jonny, clenching down again and Dylan can’t help but hiss at the pressure of it. “Dylan, I’m so fucking close–”

It’s all Dylan needs to set his feet flat on the bed, knees bent as he changes the angle and fucks into Brandon quick and deep. Brent meets his rhythm where he’s jacking him off and there’s barely a warning before Brandon’s coming, spilling onto Dylan’s stomach with a groan. Dylan slows, fucking in at a glacial pace as to not overwhelm Brandon, but there are stars pricking in his vision with how badly he needs to come, if he could just ––

“Keep going,” Brandon says, slumped into Jonny’s side as Jonny kisses at his neck. “It’s okay, keep going.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Alex breathes, pressing a hand over himself where he’s noticeably hard still in his sweats. “That’s so hot.”

Dylan can’t help the whine that escapes as he snaps his hips up once, twice, three more times before he’s tensing as he comes, buried deep in Brandon’s ass. He barely has time to catch his breath before Alex is kissing the air out of his lungs, hard and a little biting and everything perfect to Dylan right now. 

Dylan barely notices Brandon pulling off, twitching through the aftershocks, but it’s easy to kiss him deep and sweet after he collapses next to him. 

“Fuckin’ great,” Brandon says between kisses, making Dylan’s come-dumb flush deepen to an even brighter red. “God, Dylan.” 

There must’ve been a conversation he missed in there somewhere while he and Brandon were exchanging lazy afterglow kisses, because suddenly they’re being shifted over to the left side of the bed while Brent, Alex, and Jonny occupy the right side. 

Alex’s sweatpants are tugged off – no boxers under, because of course he didn’t put any on, because he lives to torment Dylan – and then Jonny is on him, kissing him as deeply as he kissed Dylan before. 

“Enjoying the show?” Brent says, smirk almost evident in his tone as he catches Dylan’s eye, follows it to Alex and Jonny. He’s running his hands over Jonny’s back, down and over the swell of his ass – more appreciative than anything else. 

Dylan huffs a laugh. “How could I not?”

Brent smiles, abandons running his hands over Jonny in favor of reaching for the bottle of lube. “Wanna help me out here?” 

Humming a yes, Dylan finally lets himself move, rolling onto his side to get closer to Alex and Jonny. 

He goes to shift Alex’s legs apart, to start running teasing fingertips over his hole, but Alex’s hand leaves Jonny’s jaw to grab Dylan’s hand, squeezing his fingers. 

“Mmm, that’s not how this happened before,” Jonny says, smirk on his face. “Repeat of last time, Alex?” 

Alex nods as he blushes and it spreads splotchy and pink across his cheeks, down his neck to his chest. 

Dylan’s brain short circuits a little because he was trying to prepare himself to see  _ Jonny _ fuck  _ Alex,  _ but this? This is a whole different brand of fantasy, something he doesn’t think he’ll ever be prepared for.

“I think you broke him,” Brent says, shaking Dylan out of it enough to swat at him. Brandon and Jonny laugh, light and easy, taking in Dylan’s face. 

“Wait, so,” Dylan starts. “For Alex’s hatty, he–”

“Is it that hard to believe?” Jonny says, mock-incredulous, and that pulls a laugh from Brent. 

“We go over this every time,” Brent says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Jonny’s lower back. “Gonna stop whining about it and let the kid open you up, Jon?” 

Jonny sighs, rolls his eyes, but there’s still a smile on his face when he shifts away from Alex for a split second to kiss Dylan.

“You gonna make it, baby?” Alex asks, voice lazy in the way it always gets when he’s too turned on for his own good. “Never said this was off the table.”

“Fuck you, yes I’m gonna make it,” Dylan says, flicking at Alex’s thigh. 

Jonny laughs, shifts so that he’s on his back next to Alex rather than nearly on top of him, and Dylan finally gets a chance to  _ look  _ at him. He’s toned, still a little tan from this summer – a pale line at his hips where his swim trunks probably were. Dylan doesn’t remember Jonny getting naked, but he’s glad he did. Seeing Jonny hard, flushed at the tip, leaking a little and free of any fabric is much different than feeling it pressed against his back. 

Since he’s a bit distracted, It’s Brent that opens the lube, holding it over Dylan’s hand and squirting a bit onto his fingers.

“Don’t worry too much about warming it up,” Brent whispers right into Dylan’s ear. “He’s weird about it.”

Dylan stifles a laugh as best as he can before swirling his fingers together about half as much as he usually would. He feels like this is a set up, but doesn’t care enough to delay getting his hand on Jonny any longer, just goes for it and runs a finger between Jonny’s cheeks, barely grazing over his hole.

Under his hand, Jonny groans, pushing back a little. “Never fuckin’ listen to him,” he says into Alex’s skin, and Brent laughs, loud and shameless.

The first teasing touch has Dylan craving more, running small circles over Jonny’s hole before slowly pushing the tip of his middle finger inside. 

“Good, Dyl,” Brent says, hooking his chin over Dylan’s shoulder, watching as Dylan shallowly fucks his finger in. “Just like that.” 

Next to Jonny, Alex’s hands are wandering over Jonny’s chest, along his jaw, in the hair at the nape of Jonny’s neck until Jonny’s kissing him again and again and  _ again. _

Jonny opens for one finger easily enough, so two and three are easy to manage, scissoring them and stretching Jonny efficiently. 

“Curl your fingers up and to the right,” Brent whispers, steadying hand on Dylan’s hip, so Dylan does. 

And, God, Jonny’s reaction is enough to fuel his mental rolodex of jerk-off material for years to come.

“Fuck,  _ there _ , holy shit,” Jonny groans, clenching down on Dylan’s fingers, and that’s more than enough to get Dylan’s dick interested again.

“Ready, Jonny?” Brent asks, and Jonny just nods, eyes shut and chest heaving a little. 

Dylan pulls his fingers out slowly, watching how Jonny’s hole stays open for a second before relaxing. He takes a condom from the pile on the bed, tears it open with his teeth and uses his lube slick hand to roll it over Alex, leaning over and kissing him a few times as he jacks him easily, taking off the edge. 

“I love you,” Dylan says, just a murmur against Alex’s lips. 

Alex pinches at Dylan’s cheek, smiling into the kiss. “Love you, too.” 

When they shift and move to get back together, it’s evident they’ve done this before, Alex and Jonny. Which, that just gets hotter the more that Dylan thinks about it. 

Well, not as hot as seeing Alex push forward and sink into Jonny, but he digresses.

“Not shy at all, not like we first thought,” Brent says, obviously about Alex, and Dylan can’t help but smile as they settle back together with Brandon, who’s ‘ _ only resting his eyes he promises.’ _

“He’s a fucking menace,” Dylan says, just as Alex fucks in a little sharper, punching a groan out of Jonny, who wraps his legs around Alex’s hips. 

“I know that now,” Brent says, throwing an arm behind Dylan’s head, pulling him into his chest. Behind him, Brandon snuggles into Dylan, arm resting on Dylan’s chest. 

Jonny’s got his hands scrabbling at Alex’s back, and he can see the sheen of sweat on Alex’s chest, gleaming across the bright red of the flush that Dylan knows means Alex is closer than he wants to admit. 

“Come on, Al,” Jonny says, breathy, like he’s riding the edge, too. “Little harder.” 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Dylan groans, dick twitching against Brent’s hip. 

Alex obliges, snapping his hips quicker, balls slapping against Jonny’s ass, punching little hums of pleasure out of Jonny with every thrust. 

“Wait for him, Alex,” Dylan manages. “Him first, then you.” 

“Fuck,” Alex breathes, but gets his hand between them to wrap around Jonny, matching the rhythm of his hips with the rhythm of his hand. 

“That’s it, babe,” Jonny hums, pushing his hips into Alex’s, thrusting into his hand. “Almost there, so good.” 

Brent reaches over, then, running the tip of his finger over Jonny’s nipple before taking it between his thumb and forefinger and pinching easily. 

“Come on, Jonny,” Brent says. “Put on a show.” 

That gets Jonny to groan, digging his heels into the backs of Alex’s thighs, pushing up into Brent’s hand. 

He’s nearly silent when he comes, just an easy groan and his head back into the pillows as Brent keeps up with the teasing of his chest. Above him, Alex gasps, hair trigger presumably set off by Jonny clenching through his orgasm and follows him over the edge, hips stuttering as he comes.

It’s quiet for a second then, just the sounds of their breathing, the heater whirring to life. Everything is sticky and a little too hot, and Dylan’s still half hard against Brent’s hip, but there’s no urgency. Just the ease of the afterglow settling over the room. 

Alex takes a settling breath, holding the base of the condom as he slides out, not even a wince from Jonny where he’s relaxed and sated, arm tucked behind his head. 

“Holy shit,” Dylan says, setting his head on Brent’s chest, sighing contently. 

Next to Brent, Alex huffs a laugh, breaths still coming a little heavy. “Yeah.” 

There’s a bit of shuffling as they all get cleaned up, Alex having come back from tossing the condom with a few washcloths, and by the time everyone’s wiped down, Brent and Brandon are making moves to head out. 

“Proud of you, Dyl,” Brandon says, pressing one more sweet kiss to Dylan’s lips before ruffling his hair. Dylan smiles into it, squeezing Brandon’s hand before letting him move out of the way for much of the same treatment from Brent.

“We’re glad to have you kid,” Brent says, kissing Dylan on the forehead before tugging his sweats back on and heading out the door with Brandon. 

Alex is on his feet soon after the door closes, holding his hand out to Dylan. 

“Come on, shower,” he says, and yeah, Dylan could use a shower. “Wanna take care of you, too.” 

It’s a seemingly harmless statement, if you don’t know Alex DeBrincat the way that Dylan does. The eyebrow waggle is subtle, but it’s still there, accompanied by an obvious once over trailing to where Dylan is definitely still half hard. 

He lets Alex pull him up and moves to look back, to see if Jonny is following, but he’s already up and passing Alex through to the bathroom before Dylan can even wonder. He barely sees the bottle of lube in Jonny’s hand before he disappears into the bathroom, but his stomach swoops when he finally realizes what it is. 

Jonny’s got the water on by the time they walk into the bathroom, bottle of lube on the counter.

“Bring that in with you,” he says, sliding the door open and stepping into the steam, leaving the door open. “We’ll get Dylan all taken care of.”

“This is how I die,” Dylan mumbles under his breath, only audible to Alex, who laughs as he grabs the lube and kisses Dylan’s cheek. 

“What a way to go,” he says, heading toward the shower, setting the lube on the shelf as he disappears into the steam. 

Scrubbing a hand at his face, Dylan shakes his head, a little incredulous at this whole night. Of the last four months, of everything that’s gone on in those four months,  _ this _ is single handedly the craziest moment. Not the trade, not the win streak. This.

He steps in the shower, pleased to find Jonny and Alex under the water together, Jonny’s lips pressed to Alex’s forehead in a stolen moment. It makes Dylan’s chest ache in the best way possible, to see the care he gives to Alex given by someone else. 

“Up for one more?” Alex asks, stepping out of the spray to switch their spots, putting himself under the water and Dylan in the middle of him and Jonny, where Jonny’s hands instantly fit to his hips. He lets his head tip back to rest against Jonny’s shoulder, only catching some of the shower spray but not caring one bit. 

“I could go again,” Dylan says, arousal thrumming easily under his skin. Not urgent, but definitely there, definitely not something he’s going to turn away. 

Behind him, Jonny huffs a laugh. “You two are so twenty-one.”

Alex just grins, handing the lube over to Jonny before sinking to his knees in front of Dylan, just barely out of the shower’s stream. His eyelashes are clumping together from the water that’s managing to hit his face, making his eyes impossibly more blue and Dylan can’t help but cup his cheek, brush a thumb over Alex’s cheekbone, warm with his telltale blush.

He’s brought back to earth when Jonny runs a hand over his ass, just gently, no intentions but a soothing touch. 

“Remember when I said later?” Dylan says, turning enough so he can see Jonny’s face.

Jonny hums, the corner of his mouth turning up. “Is it later?”

“It’s definitely later,” says Dylan, closing the space between them for an easy kiss. 

It’s then that Alex decides to take Dylan in his hand, jacking him off slow and easy, no rush to anything they’re doing except maybe for the sake of the hot water. 

Jonny breaks the kiss when Dylan hums a moan, snicking the cap of the lube open and drizzling some over his fingers. Dylan’s still a little loose from Jonny’s work earlier – and maybe still a little pliant from his first orgasm – where the first finger slips in easily, a welcome stretch. 

In front of him, Alex is pressing kisses to his thighs, slowly inching over to where Dylan is hard in his hand. 

Always methodical, Alex is, but it doesn’t take long for him to kiss his way up Dylan’s shaft and take the tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head and using the slightest amount of suction.

Dylan hisses, fingers lacing into Alex’s wet hair and tugging a little as he feels Jonny add a second finger. His legs are shaking, and if it weren’t for Jonny behind him, steady hand at his hip, he’s sure he’d be on the tub floor next to Alex. 

Alex, who’s taking Dylan apart with every trick he’s learned over the last three years; focusing on the head, steadily jacking up to his mouth, those damn eyes looking up at Dylan through his downright unfair eyelashes. 

“Jesus, Al,” Dylan sighs, head lolling back to Jonny’s shoulder again. Jonny’s rhythm doesn’t falter at all, an easy, filling stretch – slick and easy and fucking perfect. 

Dylan already feels like he’s on the downhill toward release, burning hot in the base of his spine. He curls the hand not in Alex’s hair around Jonny’s hand at his hip, only to find that hand moving, two fingers pressing at Dylan’s lower lip, asking for permission.

Dylan obliges, lets Jonny press his fingers into his mouth while the fingers of his other hand press further into his ass, curling just the right way that makes Dylan wimper, stars forming at the corners of his eyes.

He sucks at Jonny’s fingers, trying to focus and mimic what Alex’s is doing to him, but it’s getting harder and even more uncoordinated with every press of Jonny’s fingers at his prostate. 

His thighs start to shake, enough where Alex starts running his hands up and down soothingly, even though he knows that means Dylan is close. 

“Gonna come for us, baby?” Jonny asks, low and in his ear, pressing his lips to the hinge of Dylan’s jaw. Dylan sucks at Jonny’s fingers just a little harder, nodding as his pulse picks up, blood rushing in his ears. “You’ve been so good tonight, Dylan. So proud of you.”

His chest aches in the tight, all-encompassing way he loves to feel – feeling like he belongs, like this is where he’s meant to be, like ––

“Oh, fuck,” he manages, right as Jonny pulls his fingers out of his mouth. “I can’t, I’m so–”

Alex hums, acknowledging, then takes Dylan even deeper, still looking up at him at the same time that Jonny hits his prostate dead on. His orgasm sneaks up on him, dizzying and sudden and  _ so fucking good  _ as he feels Alex swallow around him, feels Jonny’s fingers where he’s clenching down. The pleasure feels like it’s on a feedback loop, pulsing through his veins, even when he thinks the best of it has passed.

It takes a bit for him to get his wits about him, taking his fingers out of Alex’s hair and helping him up from the ground. Dylan can’t help but kiss him, sweet and deep and only a little tangy from the taste of his own come. Jonny continues the soft kisses he was pressing to the base of Dylan’s neck until his breathing returns to steady and the water is almost cold.

“Come on,” Alex says, voice rasped and scratchy, guiding Dylan under the water. “Rinse off, then bed.” 

Dylan hums, eyelids still heavy. “Can we stay here?” 

“Yes,  _ cher _ ,” Jonny says, and Dylan can practically hear the smile in the voice. “You can stay here.”

Jonny runs his fingers under the water before grabbing for the shampoo, putting some in his hands before running them through Dylan’s hair. Alex has already grabbed the body wash, carefully soaping Dylan down, then himself before rinsing off and allowing Jonny to rinse Dylan’s hair. 

“You get him into something comfortable, I’ll be there in a second,” Jonny says to Alex, but it all sounds fuzzy and clouded to Dylan, still buzzing and a little come-dumb. 

Still, he let’s Alex guide him out of the shower and get wrapped in a towel. The colder air of the bathroom brings him back to life a little, and he can’t help but laugh at the dumb face he sees in the mirror; heavy eyelids, content smile, splotchy blush down to his chest. 

Alex smiles at him looking at the reflection, presses a kiss to his shoulder before tugging him from the bathroom as Jonny shuts the water off. 

It’s easy to pull on the clothes he came here in, soft and worn-in, leaving Alex to tug the dirty duvet from on top of the bed and grab the spare from the closet. Dylan can’t help but starfish on top of the mattress before Alex manages to toss the clean duvet on the bed.

“Idiot,” Alex says, tossing the duvet on top of him, which he knows is exactly what Dylan wanted in the first place.   

“You love me,” Dylan says, muffled by the pillow he’s pressed his face into.

“For some reason,” Alex says, turning down a corner and snuggling up behind Dylan, tangling their legs together and wrapping an arm around Dylan’s waist. 

Dylan just smiles, brings Alex’s hand up and kisses it. There’s a lot of reasons Alex loves Dylan, even if his affinity for unmade beds isn’t one of them. 

Jonny joins them soon after, flicking off the light after tugging on boxers and climbing in on Dylan’s other side, adding to the tangle of legs. He reaches an arm to pull both Dylan and Alex just the slightest bit closer, and the warmth in Dylan’s chest just continues to bloom.

“Thank you,” Dylan says into Jonny’s skin, still warm from the shower. 

Jonny just kisses the top of his head in answer, and sleep come easily to Dylan afterwards.

___

It doesn’t shock him that Connor doesn’t take him somewhere fancy for breakfast, opting to meet him at the hotel before their flight back to Chicago at noon. He’s too recognizable to go anywhere else, and it’s too risky to be Connor McDavid and go out somewhere after a loss like that. 

Dylan tries to pretend that doesn’t stir satisfaction in his chest. 

“You look good, Dylan,” Connor says, pulling him into a quick hug before they head into the restaurant. “It’s good to see you.” 

“You, too,” Dylan says, and he mostly means it. 

They’re halfway through their egg white omelettes and some somewhat-forced conversation when Dylan realizes that Connor hasn’t stopped focusing on his shirt collar while he’s recounting something dumb that Alex and Dom got up to at practice the other day.

“Okay, what is it?” Dylan says, raising his eyebrows in question. 

Connor’s eyes widen. “Nothing,” he says quickly, scratching at his own neck just about where he was staring at Dylan’s. “Just, uh. I hope they’re treating you well.” 

“They are,” Dylan says, confidently. “They’ve been really welcoming.” 

“I’m glad,” Connor says, then lets the conversation shift, only letting his eyes flick to Dylan’s collar every once in a while after. 

It isn’t until they’re leaving the restaurant and Dylan catches his reflection in one of the decorative mirrors that he sees the hickey, just barely above his collar. 

Treating him well would probably qualify as understatement of the year. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> dylan strome deserves the world and all the orgasms sorry i don't make the rules.
> 
> i waited until this could be the 20,000th fic in the men's hockey rpf tag because it's what the world deserves tbh


End file.
